You're Still The One

by Janet Dailey

  “I don’t think you’re the only one who has that curse, by the way,” the girl said. Rebecca headed for the door again when the girl stopped her. “Your bracelet?”

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s called Midnight.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You shouldn’t believe everything everyone tells you, you know,” the girl said with a wisdom much older than her age.

  “And you shouldn’t give up on your soul mate,” Rebecca said with a hopefulness much younger than hers.

  Chapter Four

  It was right around the corner, just as the girl claimed. And it looked exactly the same. The front of the small shop was painted bright pink. Two child-sized voodoo dolls made of spiky straw and soft linen flanked the doorway. In large black letters, a sign above the doorway simply spelled out VOODOO. To the point, Rebecca thought. Although the pink paint made it all seem so harmless and fun, Rebecca knew it was anything but.

  She entered through a film of hanging beads, liking how it felt to brush through them, the soft rattle announcing her entrance. It took a few minutes for Rebecca’s eyes to adjust to the dark. The shop consisted of two small adjoining rooms and a hallway leading to a shut door. The shelves littering the small space were crammed with herbs, potions, books, worry dolls and beads, incense, and colorful little figurines. Rebecca stood still. She was once here with Grant Dodge. She could see the two of them bursting in, hand in hand, laughing.

  “Can I help you?”

  Rebecca jumped at the sound of the woman’s voice. Just inside the entrance to the second small room stood an attractive woman somewhere in her fifties. She was dressed in a flowing pink gown, the same color as the shop. Her dark hair was swept up, her eyes heavily rimmed with black eyeliner and topped with fake eyelashes.

  “I didn’t see you there,” Rebecca said.

  “I blend in,” the woman said. “What can I do for you? Love potion? Hate potion? A little sage to rid your space of negative energy, perhaps?” With that the woman reached for the nearest shelf and snatched up a bundle of herbs. Then she pulled a lighter from her pocket and set it afire. Smoke billowed out and began snaking toward Rebecca. Soon the place was overcome by a thick, sweet smell. Rebecca, who’d always been hypersensitive to certain smells, began to cough. She could feel her nose stopping up and her chest tightening.

  “Oh dear,” the woman said. “What have I done?”

  Rebecca couldn’t speak; instead she waved at the smoke and pulled up her tank top to cover her mouth. The woman quickly turned to a small sink behind her and doused the sage in water.

  “Thank you,” Rebecca choked out when she could speak again. “I’m allergic.”

  “Pity,” the woman said. “You must have a lot of trapped negative energy in your space.”

  “Not really,” Rebecca said. Just in my head. There’s a whole lot of negative energy trapped up there.

  “We have other incense—”

  Rebecca threw up her hand before the woman could light up anything else. “Actually,” she said, “I’m looking for the high priestess.”

  The woman barely moved a muscle. Only her eyes moved, to the hallway leading to the closed door.

  “She’s still here,” Rebecca said.

  “She’s not well. I run the shop now.”

  “Oh, but I’d love to see her. Just say a quick hello.”

  The woman moved in closer and folded her arms across her ample chest. “What kind?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Work, money, health, or love?”

  “Love,” Rebecca said. “It was a love curse.”

  The woman sighed, then gestured for Rebecca to follow her into the second room. There she perched herself on a stool near the one window. “They’re the hardest kind to remove,” she said. She stared out the window as she spoke. “And as I told you, my aunt is not well.”

  Rebecca took this in, wondering which way to play it. Did the woman want money? Is that what this was? From the way she’d spoken it was obvious Rebecca wasn’t the first unhappy customer to storm in, demanding a cure. What a racket they had here. Frightening vulnerable people like her with this hocus-pocus.

  “I suppose if I wanted to have this curse removed, it would be very expensive. Am I right?” Rebecca said. In a strange way, it made her feel better, knowing it was all just a big scam.

  But instead of continuing the conversation, the woman jumped off her stool and pointed to the door. “Get out,” she said. “Now.”

  “But . . . I’m sorry. I thought—”

  “I was scamming you,” the woman finished for her.

  Rebecca felt little pinpricks up and down the back of her neck. It was hot in here. And she could still smell the cloying scent of sage. Little colored spots littered her vision. She wasn’t sure she could keep standing. She reached out to steady herself on a shelf. She hadn’t leaned on it too heavily, yet suddenly the shelf seesawed to the floor, and before Rebecca could react, items rapidly began sliding downhill.

  “Oh God,” Rebecca said. She tried to hold the end of the shelf up, but it was heavy and the bracket was wrenched from the wall. Bowls of crystals, little voodoo dolls, and glass bottles slid down. Rebecca was able to catch only a few things, and by the time she got a grip on the shelf, it was too late. Voodoo trinkets were scattered everywhere. Rebecca wasn’t quite sure what the supernatural rules were, but this couldn’t be good. And she didn’t know how long she could hold this shelf up. It was heavy. And it was so hot in here. The little colored spots were back.

  “Heavens,” the woman said. “Don’t faint on me.” She stepped over to Rebecca and took hold of the shelf. In a few swift moves she had the bracket temporarily pinned back into the wall.

  Rebecca had to get out. She started for the door and stumbled. She had destroyed the shop, and now she was crushing everything underfoot. She tried to take another step. Why was the floor so slanted? Why was the ceiling spinning? Suddenly, she felt arms around her waist. The woman guided Rebecca back into the entrance room, but instead of showing her the door, she helped her into an old armchair shoved in the corner of the room. Although bone-dry, it smelled like it had been left out in the rain, but Rebecca wasn’t in any position to complain.

  “Auntie,” the woman shouted. “Can you come out here, please?”

  Rebecca was startled by the tone of the woman’s voice. She sounded worried. Rebecca wanted to tell her she was fine, that she didn’t want to see the priestess after all, she just wanted to go, but she couldn’t find the words. She closed her eyes, then heard a door squeak open and slow, plodding footsteps down the hall. Suddenly a blast of cold air hit Rebecca. Her eyes flew open. Standing just a few feet from her, supported by a cane, was the high priestess.

  “She’s one of yours,” the woman said.

  “I can see that,” the priestess said. She waved her niece aside with the cane, then came a few steps closer. Rebecca knew it was impolite to stare, but she couldn’t help herself. The old woman hadn’t changed a bit. Of course she looked like an old prune back then, so it wasn’t saying much. But still. Just seeing the old woman brought back a wave of sadness. It was as if someone were wringing her heart like a dishrag. Rebecca forced herself to stand.

  “The love you seek is near,” the old woman said.

  Rebecca looked at the door. She should leave, just get out. Never look back. For that matter, she should go straight to her hotel room, pack, and head for the airport. She wasn’t ready for this; she didn’t want this. “I’m sorry,” she said, taking a few steps toward the door. “I have to go.”

  “He’s right here, darling. Right up the street.”

  Rebecca froze. The old woman was staring at her with a vacant smile. “I don’t know anyone here,” Rebecca said.

  “As you say,” the old woman said. “But if you do—”

  “I don’t.”

  “Then you won’t try to rekindle the flame?”

  Rebecca shook her head and made it to the hanging be
ads.

  “Because once lit it will burn down everything in its path.”

  “Auntie!”

  Rebecca squared her shoulders and faced the old woman. “I don’t believe you,” she said. “That’s why I came. To tell you I don’t believe you.”

  The high priestess took a few steps toward Rebecca. “You flew all this way to tell me that?” She cocked her head and put her index finger on her wrinkled chin. Her eyes were as disconcerting as ever; one blue, one green, both reproachful.

  She knows I flew here. Well, lucky guess. Probably all of their guests are tourists. “I have to go,” Rebecca said.

  “So soon?” the priestess said. “In such nasty weather?”

  “It’s not—” And just as the words came out of her mouth, Rebecca heard the wind howling. Startled, she turned to see rain lashing at the windows, coming down thick and heavy.

  “You came to undo the curse,” the priestess stated.

  “I am not cursed,” Rebecca said with as much strength as she could muster. “I am not cursed.”

  “You’re not?” the priestess said. She sounded almost joyful. “With all your lies? Have you not cursed yourself with all those lies?”

  Your father and I were high school sweethearts. He died in a car accident shortly before you were born—

  “Have you come to set things right?”

  “Can I?” Rebecca asked. “Set things right?” Perhaps this was going to be simple. Perhaps the woman would give her some basic spell or chant, and Rebecca would pretend to believe it, but she would finally see through the act, and she would leave knowing she wasn’t really cursed, had never been cursed.

  “It won’t be easy,” the priestess said. “It never is.”

  “You don’t even remember me,” Rebecca said. She parted the beads.

  “You kissed him before midnight, didn’t you?”

  Rebecca whirled around, dumbfounded. “Yes,” she whispered. “I did.”

  The old woman gave a low laugh. It was startling to hear, even if it wasn’t very merry. “Do you have a recording device?”

  “My iPhone.” She’d forgotten it could record. She’d never used it to record anything. “But really, it’s not—”

  “Turn it on, because I’m only going to say this once.” Fumbling and shaking, Rebecca set her phone to record. The priestess held up a crooked finger and her words tumbled out like rocks sliding down a mountain. “The one with red feathers will betray you. You will be crushed. You will draw blood. Your heart will be ripped from your chest. Your wildest dreams will start to come true. You will encounter sudden wealth. You and your love will be caught in an endless cycle of passion and fear. Oh, but the love, the passion.” The woman stopped, caught her breath, and looked away, her voice soft but heavy with emotion. “So few people get this. Such love.”

  Rebecca stood, openmouthed.

  The priestess looked as if she’d had the wind taken out of her. Her niece stepped up and gently wrapped her arms around her. “Come, Auntie,” she said. She looked at Rebecca. “I haven’t seen her this upset in a long time. Please. Don’t come back.”

  “I won’t.”

  The priestess straightened up, as if all her energy had returned, and she whirled on Rebecca. “You blame me! The child you bore that night. Is that my fault as well?”

  “Oh my God,” Rebecca said. “Please. Will they ever forgive me?”

  “Since that night you’ve lived your life in total fear. Since then, you’ve sacrificed everything for someone else.”

  My son—

  “You’ve hidden your talents away.”

  Rebecca absentmindedly touched her necklace, made by her own two hands.

  “Afraid, afraid, afraid! I warned you, didn’t I? That kiss would change the rest of your life. Be warned again, my dear. I’m going to give you a second chance. From now on any decision you make out of fear will take away bits of your life one piece at a time.”

  “Please,” the niece said. “She needs her rest.”

  Rebecca stumbled forward. “I believe you,” she said softly. “Just, please. Tell me how to lift the curse.”

  The old woman looked as if she almost felt sorry for Rebecca. She reached out but stopped short of touching her. “Ah, still such hope. I’m sorry to be the bearer of such bad news. Because the cycle will not end until you’ve caused the death of someone else.”

  “What?”

  “Death. It’s a cycle, my dear. Only death breaks the cycle.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “Oh, I am,” the high priestess said. “For you to be free, someone else must die.”

  This time Rebecca didn’t wait to be asked to leave. She stumbled out and the minute the shop was no longer in sight, she began to run.

  Chapter Five

  Crazy old woman. Crazy, crazy old woman. And crazy of Rebecca to go looking for her in the first place. And still, all she could think about as she continued down the street in what was now a misty rain peppered with bursts of sunshine, was: Right down the street? Grant Dodge is right down the street? She wondered if it was literal. If she literally continued right down the street, would she run into him? She glanced down at her iPhone, still clutched in her hand. It was all recorded. She could play it for Cathy, get her unbiased opinion. She texted her: Wish you were here.

  She didn’t say anything more; no point in raising the alarm. Cathy would be here tomorrow and the two of them would discuss this calmly, and Cathy would assure her that bits of her life weren’t going to be stolen from her, or whatever it was the woman had predicted. And she certainly wasn’t going to break the cycle by killing anyone. My God, it was so melodramatic.

  How sad. It was easy to see how lonely the old woman was. It was written all over her face. Some people just enjoyed seeing other people as miserable as they were, and that was that. She had planned on going back to the hotel for a rest, but now all she needed was a cool dark place to sit and a drink to calm her down. She was in a state, but it would soon pass and someday she would even laugh about this.

  After finding the perfect little Cajun restaurant and having a shrimp cocktail and a glass of white wine, she felt even more reassured. Where was the old jazz club she wandered into twenty-one years ago? Would she be able to find it? Did it even exist?

  “More wine?”

  “One more glass,” Rebecca said. “And then I’m cut off.” The waiter laughed as if he’d heard it before, and presented her with a basket of warm fresh bread and a complimentary cup of Creole stew. It was pure bliss.

  “I love your necklace,” he said.

  Rebecca lifted her hand to remember which piece she was wearing. The chunky black onyx with the gray pearls.

  “My girlfriend wears jewelry like that.”

  Rebecca beamed. Maybe it was a sign. “Well then,” she said, “she must have it.” Rebecca took the necklace off and handed it to the astonished waiter.

  “I couldn’t,” he said.

  “I made it myself, and I insist,” Rebecca said.

  “Thank you,” he said. “Then you’re definitely having a third glass of wine.”

  After this meal and three glasses of wine, she would be comatose for the rest of the evening. She was about to protest when she realized she couldn’t think of a more perfect way to end this crazy day. The encounter with the waiter made her feel good. She was a good person. If she was destined to kill someone, then it was going to be with kindness.

  Saturday morning Rebecca woke up to the shrill ring of her hotel room phone. She pawed for it and answered without opening her eyes.

  “Mom?”

  “Miles!” She was immediately awake, and smiling.

  “Ah, I woke you up, didn’t I?”

  “Never you mind,” she said.

  “Partying all night?” Miles laughed. He knew she was the type who was always in bed with a book by nine. And true to form, she had been.

  “I’m saving that for tonight,” she said. “Cathy will insist on it.�
��

  “How is it, being back?”

  Her son was so sweet. He was genuinely invested in her happiness. For a split second she felt the wringing guilt that always accompanied her lies.

  “It’s the same as I remember,” she said. Except I haven’t seen your father. And I’m destined to be a killer.

  “Oh God, Mom,” Miles said. “You sound teary.”

  “Just groggy,” Rebecca lied. Maybe she should tell him now. Get it over with. But something stopped her. It was Grant she should tell first. Until she squared things with him, she couldn’t completely explain it to Miles. “How do you feel about tonight?” she asked her beautiful son. He had a jazz competition. Miles laughed. He never got nervous about competitions. She wished Grant could be there to hear him. She wished she could see them play side by side onstage. A familiar pain sliced through her—regret, guilt, longing.

  “It’ll be a blast, Mom. Look, I gotta split. You have fun. And remember—what happens in New Orleans—”

  “I think that’s Vegas.”

  “It’s N’Orleans for you, Ma. Just have fun. Listen to some jazz if you get a chance. And next time, I’m coming with you.” They said their good-byes and their I-love-you’s, and when Rebecca hung up she sent up a little prayer, asking for forgiveness for the things she’d done and the things she’d failed to do. What happens in New Orleans, stays in New Orleans. Vegas or not, she could only hope Miles would still be on board when he found out how good she was at sticking to that particular motto.

  Cathy, who loved surprising people even when they knew what was coming, didn’t text until she was already in the French Quarter, sitting at the popular beignets café, famous for their powdery little doughnuts that were so addictive they should be illegal. Rebecca, who pretty much had to watch everything she ate for fear of crossing from voluptuous to overweight, couldn’t believe the amount her tiny best friend could put away. She was easy to envy, but Rebecca wanted nothing but happiness for Cathy. She had given up her throne as a popular girl in high school to stick by Rebecca, who wouldn’t have made it through that horrendous year without her. Cathy had a privileged life, but she deserved every second of it. Cathy had three beautiful daughters and a doctor husband who was busy, but from everything Rebecca could tell, they were happily married. She was also thrilled to be with Rebecca in New Orleans for the weekend, so much so that she didn’t even bat an eye when all the powder from her beignets caked her Chanel bag and tailored suit. She simply brushed it all away with her pretty new nails, laughed, and reached for more. Rebecca ate only two of the evil little morsels and then forced herself to drink her coffee and pretend eating another one was the furthest thing from her mind. So far they were having a lovely reunion, catching up on everything, and for the moment ignoring the elephant in the room.